Comic Con: My Favorite Convention of the Year

I love cartoons and comics, and I love Comic Con. It is one of the few reasons I have left to get out of bed and wash the pizza out of my stubble. Unfortunately, this year I wasn’t able to make it. I was preparing to leave my apartment when I slipped on a banana peel (ironically like in a cartoon) and separated my femurs from my pelvis. Moments later, a skunk hopped in through the open window and sprayed me with his stinky, stinky spray (also not unlike the cartoons I so cherish). What’s more, there’s an anvil perched on a nearby shelf that doesn’t look a hundred per cent secure. But don’t worry about me—femurs tend to reattach themselves, right? I’ll be out of this pickle in no time. Uh oh, the vibrations from typing that last sentence seem to have jarred loose the anvil. Why would I store it up there atop my collection of greased marbles and half-lit TNT sticks?

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